


That's a Lot of Lingerie

by acheeseball



Series: the x-reader THREE-parter haha [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Face-Sitting, Flirting, Gen, Lingerie, Mettaton Being An Asshole, Mettaton EX, Mettaton Has A Vagina, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, aaaAAAnd that's about it pls run me over with a small Jeep, creative use of a mirror...., heart erogenous zone, so much feckin heart goo you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7289761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acheeseball/pseuds/acheeseball
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've known each other for just under a year, and now he thinks he can tell you what kind of panties to wear. This should be interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. that underwear's probably straight from goodwill

**Author's Note:**

> I don't feel the need to explain myself for writing this self-indulgent garbage, as this is AO3, the HUB of sin and debauchery
> 
> Also idk what even the reader's job specifically is so just roll with it because I Know Nothing and i needed a plot device ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

You couldn’t decide whether you were sick of this absurd game, or if you wanted more.

The game, to be exact, was between you and none other than Mettaton, the robotic star of the underground. In the past year, though, he’d asserted himself as a popular idol on the surface, taking the world by storm almost immediately following the destruction of the barrier. The odds that you, a run-of-the-mill student would ever land a job as one of his assistants (as well as his most favored one) would have been inconceivable to you just several months ago.

Now, what was really inconceivable was how long you had held up after he began to see you as more than just another employee.

The infuriating thing about him was that he loved to tease, and you could tell he relished in the feeling of having a leg up on someone, so to speak. You didn’t expect his casual flirting and your flustered responses to progress into a daily onset of sweet nothings whispered heatedly into your ear and light kisses which he would place on your cheek, your hand, or the top of your head. It just started happening at some point in your fourth month of working with him.

Mettaton would leave every advance unexplained, or simply laugh it off as if you two were having a conversation and nothing more. That was when you decided that if he was going to make every one of his interactions with you something of a sensual game, then you were going mimic him until…

Until when? You had recently been pondering that, along with the question of what he saw in you that had stirred him to toy with you like this in the first place. After all, he flirted with everyone to varying degrees. You seemed to be the one exception to his capriciousness. Not that his flirting habits changed in any way, they just seemed to be heavily concentrated on you. From time to time you even engaged in banter, fraught with a palpable sexual tension. Being honest with yourself, you got a massive kick out of using the robot’s tactics against him. He had taken you for a soft-spoken and innocent thing, but once your confidence kicked in, you could dish out exactly what he served. Surely you had surprised him and gotten him worked up at least once or twice.

What were you to him? Was there an end in sight for the ritualistic and unaddressed flirting which seemed to grow more and more persistent with each pass? These questions circled your mind, and it didn’t make the work you were doing presently very productive.

You looked up from stack of forms you had been assigned to fill out when a glasses-wearing monster--presumably an intern--called your attention.

“Excuse me?” they murmured. “Wait. You are (y/n), right?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” you answered, sticking the forms under your clipboard.

“I… just got sent to tell you that Mettaton wants to see you?” the monster said hesitantly.

Your thought process halted for a second. Then you groaned internally, because you were 99% sure Mettaton wasn’t concerned with anything related to your job. And you still had about 7 more forms to fill out before the nighttime show ended.

“He said to come to his dressing room,” the monster continued. “Which is weird, I mean, his show’s starting in just a few--”

“Ok, I’ll be right there,” you sighed, striding over backstage. You brushed past crews of cameramen (cameramonsters?), producers, and the occasional human stage hand until you reached the end of the hall. You knocked on the bright pink door, mentally prepping for whatever this robot had in store for you.

“It’s open, darling!” you heard him trill from inside.

You let yourself in, footsteps muffled by a thick magenta carpet. Everything in this place was magenta in shades that were headache-inducing. Coupled with the rhinestones and sequins emblazoned on nearly every piece of furniture, it was enough to make one dizzy just by trying to take it all in.

Seated at his vanity underneath a poster-strewn wall was Mettaton, eyeing you in the mirror with lipstick in his hand.

He spun around in his seat to face you. You wondered if he meant for you to notice how his eyes briefly darted up and down, taking you in before beaming at you with sappy sweetness. “ _There’s_ my lovely assistant.”

“Can it,” you spat a little too harshly. A small thrill of fear shot through your body when the words left your mouth. You usually weren’t this cold towards him (and how could you be when half the time he reduced you to an aroused mess?). You figured the late hours you had been working had taken a toll on you, and your heart sank a little when you noticed Mettaton’s face fall for an instant. _Ok. that’s it,_ you thought. _I’m getting out of here before I ruin anything else._

You mumbled an apology under your breath as you headed for the door, but didn’t make it a couple steps before you found yourself entangled in his extendable metallic arms and swiftly pulled back to where you stood before. You hastily tried to explain yourself, but Mettaton spoke first.

“I understand you’ve been under some pressure these past few days, sweetheart, and I really appreciate the hard work you’ve done,” he murmured.

The genuinity in his voice set off a thundering beat in your chest. It paralleled with the beat you felt when he pulled his suave and seductive spiel on you. Another thing that muddled your feelings further: the rare times when he seemed to soften up and show concern. It was exciting to think that you were probably the only human to have experienced this.

“I just wondered if I could have your opinion on how my new makeup looks,” he continued.That’s right. He had hired new makeup artists this past week. You peered at his face.

You could tell they had done an excellent job. He was wearing a new shade of eyeshadow, which perfectly complemented the eyeliner wing painted around his uncovered eye. You tried not to make eye contact for too long and examined his plump lips. They were colored with a matte charcoal.  

“I-It looks really good,” you stammered. This time the robot’s smile echoed relief. “Good, I’m glad. Thank you so much, my dear.”

You already knew he wasn’t finished with you, and he confirmed your thoughts when he held up the container of lipstick that had been in his hand. “Can you tell this is a new shade from my cosmetic line?” You couldn’t, but you wanted to strive for politeness and replied with “Oh, yeah, definitely.”

“And since it already looks _divine_ on me,”-- _groan--_ “I’m curious to see how it would look on you. Do you mind if i put some on your lips?”

Oh, yeah, this forty-dollar lipstick will look _great_ slapped onto your utterly bare face. And while he was at it, he’d find a way to get you hot and bothered like he always did. What an ass.

Mettaton removed the cap from the lipstick. Or tried to. He pulled once, twice, and thrice, and the cap still wouldn’t budge. Suddenly he seemed a lot less intimidating with his face set in disbelief over not being able to open _lipstick._ You couldn’t help but smirk at him.

“What the…” he pulled again, now annoyed. “Sorry, darling, it seems to be stuck--”

He pulled one last time, and the cap flew off unexpectedly. In his haste to avoid knocking objects off his vanity with his elbow, he let the cap go and it bounced off the mirror before rolling across the carpet and underneath a chaise lounge in the middle of the room. You glanced at each other, stunned.

“I’ll get it,” you said before he could.

“Oh, thank you,” Mettaton chuckled. “Someone had to be awfully strong to screw that cap on so tight that I couldn’t even open it..”

You were mystified at that. You kneeled down on all fours to look under the lounge, searching for the cap. It was hard to see in the darkness there, and the lounge was so low to the ground that you could barely fit your arm under it. You tried reaching for the cap once you saw it, but it had rolled so far that you really had to stretch.

“Oh my.” Mettaton seemed to be amused at something. You paused your search in a huff.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” he crooned. “I just never thought you were the type to wear such cheap underwear.”

What.

You were on your feet in seconds, shimmying your pants up as Mettaton giggled like a schoolgirl. You felt your face grow red in record time. Damn him, damn him, _damn him._ He easily could have ignored that, right?? But no, of course he had to point out the fact that you hadn’t bought new underwear in years, _of course._

“Ok, so I wear cheap underwear,” you grumbled. “Is it any of your business?”

You didn’t allow him to answer. Rather, you seized the chance to turn this around while you could.

“Oh, yeah, and why were you staring at my ass?”

Mettaton’s gaze was unfaltering, but you remained staunch. Scoffing, he nearly spat, “Darling. Why would I bother staring at anyone else’s ass when we all know  _I_ have the best ass?”

Well. You wouldn’t say that was false _._ His husky undertone almost made you forget that that ridiculous,conceited line doubled as an insult. Nonetheless, you started feeling hot, and you wanted nothing more than for the floor to open up and consume you while you still had a shred of dignity left.

“I mean, you bent over right in front of me, so obviously I was going to see.” He slowly crossed his legs. “My, my, we really need to do something about those hideous panties.”

You were fuming. You couldn’t think of any response, and the most you managed were some bewildered and throaty noises before retorting, “Why are you so concerned with my goddamn underwear??”

“Now, let’s not have any more rudeness,” he wagged a finger at you and that pissed you off. Then he had the nerve to hook his leg around around your legs, nudging you closer to where he was sitting. He slipped his gloved hands over yours and you didn’t have the willpower to pull away.

“You do know you’re my favorite employee, right?” The robot fluttered his lashes pleasantly. “You deserve the best and nothing less. Consider this a favor.”

“Consider what a favor?” Did you even want to know?

A shrill bell sounded over a speaker in the ceiling, signaling it was almost time for Mettaton to go on stage.

He rose to his feet, and the thought of how much he towered over you flashed through your mind. Your hands were still touching.

“My suite at the top floor of my resort. Meet me there tomorrow when I finish my TV spot for the afternoon so we can do something about your...underwear situation.”

“What?” He couldn’t be any less clear. “What are you gonna do?”

Mettaton paused as he crossed the room to the door. A glance over his shoulder momentarily diverted your gaze from what his hand was doing, and-- _oh._

His thumb was hooked over his skintight leggings, which were pulled down partially so that you got an eyeful of the scant, lacy underwear that strained over his hips and ass. You only got a few seconds of the view before he snapped his leggings back up, a smug vibe rolling off him in waves.

That should have been illegal.

“As you just had the pleasure of seeing, I have an underwear line to make even _you_ swoon. If you come tomorrow, you can try on as much of it as you like.”

“But--”

“Trust me, darling, you’ll love it. Most of the garments would look quite good on you, I might add.” He was halfway out the door by now, but managed to blow you a quick kiss before leaving for his performance. The door was left ajar, and the occasional monster peered in curiously, unknown as to why you stood frozen in place on the bright carpet. So much was going through your head that it was impossible to focus on one point.

What you _did_ know was that Mettaton had invited you over to his private suite, and there was no doubt you’d be alone. You only saw one end result of you two being alone with lingerie in the mix, and it was messy. How could there be any other outcome? This ludicrous game, this frustrating turmoil of lust had to reach some sort of peak eventually.

Realizing the clipboard you had left on a dresser, you snatched it up and left to return to form-signing. Unbelievable. You were actually hoping for something raunchy to happen. Well, if it did, then so be it. You would prepare to give him one last teasing before giving in to desire. You looked forward to seeing how this all played out.

 _I really appreciate the hard work you’ve done._ After a minute, you touched back on his words. He wasn’t all charming grins and theatrics. It was sweet when he exposed his sincere side. His shift in demeanor created an easy atmosphere. Thinking back on the occasions when he offered you words of encouragement during a rough day, or called you to wish you a good night, made a pure warmth swell in your chest. All of a sudden you felt a weird sort of comfort despite the circumstances. Most importantly of all, you trusted him.


	2. oh look now you have some ~fancy~ panties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So since the uh g o o d part ended up being pretty long, I divided it into two chapters so you all can suffer : ) anyway enjoy

It was tomorrow, that was for certain. You couldn’t believe you’d spent extra time the night before grooming yourself for this...date? You were sure that was the wrong name for it. “Afternoon in which I either get some from a robot while wearing his underwear or leave having been under the complete wrong impression” probably fit more. Well, you had already settled on being prepared for both the expected and possibly the unexpected. All that was left to do was take things as they came.

Last night, Mettaton had been able to catch you after his show just as your shift had ended. He’d mentioned that he would text you once he finished up his engagements for the next day, and skipped off with a playful wink, still animated from his performance. You obeyed him, and now here you sat at the front of the resort, awaiting the text.

Not long after, your phone buzzed. The emoji-filled message read,  _ I’m on my way, darling! I can unlock my suite remotely, so you can go ahead and let yourself in! ;) <3 _

_ Well, I guess he trusts me too. _ You hurried inside the lobby and squeezed into a crowded elevator to reach the top floor. There, you only found a couple ordinary rooms with Mettaton’s room being isolated down a long hallway. You knew because the door was a screaming pink. Obviously.

You figured you might look suspicious if anyone saw you, so you speedwalked as quietly as possible to his suite, hesitating when you turned the handle. As he had promised, it was unlocked and you stepped inside carefully.

It was almost what you’d expected, if a little bit bigger. Basically his suite was a giant, livable version of his dressing room, outfitted with a chandelier, decorative feathers, ornate and elegant curtains, and a king-size bed located conveniently beside a small charging dock. You felt the urge to dive into the bed and curl up in all the silky overstuffed pillows. He probably wouldn’t like that, so instead you sat on the very edge of the mattress so that you wouldn’t wrinkle the sheets.

You waited another few minutes in almost eerie silence. You wondered if you should text him, but soon your ears caught the sound of a mechanical whirring coming from outside the door. The handle clicked and in rolled Mettaton in his unassuming box form.

For some reason that had caught you off guard, and you choked back a laugh. Luckily he didn’t notice. “Well, here I am,” you stated with a half-smile. “How was the shoot?”

“Oh, it went fabulously,” the robot affirmed as he zipped closer, the lights on his screen flashing exuberantly. “Now, darling, can you do me quick a favor? Flip my switch, if you would.”

He spun around to expose his switch. You didn’t know why he couldn’t just do it himself, what with his extendable arms and all, but you flipped the switch anyway. There was a poofing sound and a cloud of smoke, and within seconds he was in his EX form, looking down at you.

“So… what’s your solution for my so-called ‘underwear situation’?” you uttered. Giggling as if he knew a big secret, Mettaton motioned for you to follow him. He led you to the far left of the room to a recess in the wall where there was a small staircase followed by an engraved wooden door.

“I bet you won’t be surprised by how it looks,” he said, rolling his eyes, “but allow me to show you my suite’s private dressing room.”

He swung open the door. Contrary to what he had just said, you did feel some form of surprise, especially at the fact that he called this a  _ dressing room. _

It might as well have been a ballroom or an exhibit in an observatory disguised as the most gigantic Victoria’s Secret display ever made. Mettaton nudged you inside, and you stepped forth while staring openmouthed at what must have been thirty-foot tall ceilings. The walls were packed to the top with shelves of hanger racks. On each hanger was a unique piece of lingerie or underwear to varying degrees of stringyness. In the center resided a circular podium directly facing a long folding mirror.

It wasn’t at all what you were expecting, actually.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Mettaton noted proudly. “I had as many garments in your estimated size as possible ordered in. I’ll help you try them on, and give you the ones you like the most for free.”

“Wow.” You said after a while, not sure how else to phrase your thoughts. You did have a question for him, though. “Um. Were you expecting me to take my clothes off for this?”

He gave you a look like you were a toddler with a toy, putting a circle-shaped block in a square-shaped hole. “Well, it’s only natural, darling. For now, you can keep your cheap underwear on, but when you try on my  _ superior _ products, you’ll have to get naked.”

There wasn’t a huge problem with stripping down to your underwear-- after all, he had seen you in a swimsuit when he’d invited you to a beach trip with some friends from the underground-- but the idea of getting naked made you want to turn on your heel and leave. “Ok, let’s get one thing straight, Mett,  _ I am not-- _ ”

“Oh, I won’t be staring at you when you strip! My, what a scandalous idea.” Ok, now he was being a smartass, and you wanted to smack the grin off his face. “I promise I won’t look while you’re changing. You can watch for me in the mirror.”

You considered. Unless he had literal eyes in the back of his head, He wouldn’t be able to see you. And if you caught him stealing a glance, you swore on your life you would snap his metal neck with your bare hands.

“Seriously, sweetheart, I won’t look.” Well, at least you heard the sincerity creeping back in. On second thought, you’d do it. You’d find some way to make it awkward for him too.

You removed your shirt in one quick pull, revealing a bra equally as cheap as your underwear. An upside to these circumstances would be that you’d likely get some new ones since, lately, the wires from your current bras all seemed to be intent on skewering your ribs. A look at Mettaton, and you noticed his eyes widen as if he weren’t expecting you to comply with such little convincing. That made you grin.

“Catch.” You tossed your shirt at his face, but he swiftly grabbed it and deposited it, folded, near the podium.

“Come, now, enough games so that we can see how precious you’re going to look all dolled up in my brand.” Now he looked almost blissful, and instead of replaying his sweet robotic voice in your head, you focused on removing your jeans and socks. His extendable arms were deft in folding your clothing into a neat little pile near where he stood. You found that kind of cute.

You stepped into the center of the podium, feeling very small in the middle of this giant room, with giant mirrors reflecting you on three angles. You didn’t look for too long. A pang of self-consciousness hit you as you realized what you were getting into, so you distracted yourself with an important question.

“Hey, what’re you going to do with all the stuff that I don’t like or doesn’t fit me? I mean...if I’m trying them on with nothing underneath then it seems like a waste to…”

“Oh, darling, It’s not that big a deal,” he assured with nonchalance. “I have truckloads more that what you see in here. It’s either throw the tried-on ones away, or…”

A pause. Then he made a face that started to bring you out of your embarrassment, turning it into disbelief.

“Of course. You’re going to keep them, aren’t you?”

“Just a few, if you’d let me.” He giggled musically, and shamelessly.

You decided you weren’t going to be ashamed either, if he was gong to play this way.

“You know what, fine.” You put your hand on your hip, it made you feel more powerful. “Do whatever pervy shit you want with that used underwear. If only everyone above and underground knew you were a panty-sniffer.”

The robot’s heels clacked on the smooth tile of the podium as he drew closer to you. There was something wild in his eyes. He faced you, spun you around so you both faced the mirror, and leaned into the right side of your face. A low chuckle came from somewhere in his throat, sending vibrations through your bones.

“Go right ahead and tell  _ everybody  _ you know.” He was idly twisting your bra strap around his fingers. “They won’t even be surprised. Oh, and what if they asked you how you knew that?”

A mechanical whirr, and Mettaton’s other hand presented you with a neat set of black lace panties and a prettily-designed bra with a small pink bow in the middle, taken from one of the many shelves. “You can tell them all about our little date, where you gave me your full permission to  _ bury my face _ in whatever you try on.”

You were going to moan, but you stopped it from progressing beyond a concept..

“Shall we begin, lovely?” He snapped your bra strap, nudging you with the hanger that held the lingerie. After swallowing hard, you snatched the hanger away and he backed off the podium with the most accomplished grin.

“Turn around,” you ordered. You kept a close eye on Mettaton in the mirror as you completely disrobed and began dressing yourself in the new underwear.

Your attention was drawn to the intricacies of the lace and the softness of the fabric. Not only did the underwear look good, but it was also soft and slippery, yet taut enough to stay up. Mettaton had started you off with something simple, as this was the kind of cheeky underwear you usually saw at department stores. The bra was equally nice, but upon fastening it you noticed it was a bit too tight. First outfit in, and it was already doomed to be a memento of your visit.

“Hey, if the only bra doesn’t fit does that mean it has to get, uh... _ thrown out _ with the underwear?” You questioned.

“No, wait, let me see you!” Mettaton whipped around enthusiastically and circled you a few times, fixated on your form. His eyes felt like lasers on your skin, but you held back from becoming nervous.

A small chill when he fingered the straps and clasp of the bra, even though it only lasted a couple seconds. “Ugh, you’re right, that does feel a bit snug,” he noted. “Doesn’t matter. There’s so much more I’d like to see you in.”

He was eager, you could tell. And truthfully, you could see a lot of things you would have died to own, they were so cute, but a lack of money would have prevented you. Not anymore.

You tried on several more pieces, some practical, and others obviously meant to get a rise out of Mettaton. The longer you tried things on, you observed, the more needy (?) he seemed to grow. Some lingerie sets, when you showed them off for him, would cause him to breathe a bit heavy, almost like a short pant. You wondered if he even needed to breathe, but figured it was just another feature meant to enhance his human demeanor. Whatever the case, you caught it whenever he gazed at you longingly for a moment, or squirmed, rubbing his thighs together in a seemingly covert way. Maybe he even wanted you to notice. He was nothing if not desperate for all eyes on him.

A long time passed, and soon you had a sizeable haul of all the designer underwear you could ever hope for. Among them were beaded camis, numerous patterned thongs, strapless bras that held up surprisingly well, halter bras with subtle embroidery and eyelets. You had even selected a keyhole bra which fit around you like a band, as per Mettaton’s raving about  _ how absolutely adorable it looks on you, angel.  _ Of course you had to get the matching underwear as well, and in the front was a tiny keyhole that coordinated with the bra.

At the moment, even though you had your eye on one more set with pretty wine-red lining, you wound up looking at the set a shelf above it.

This one was considerably racier than most, as it was crisscrossed with straps around the midsection, almost bondage-like. There was little surface area on top, and clipped to the hanger was what must have been a garterbelt and sheer stockings. The x-rated look of it all was toned down partially by its rosy pastel color.

“How about that one next?” You pointed upwards, directing Mettaton’s elongated arm to what you had selected. You exchanged glances with him, and he seemed intrigued.

“Darling, I hope you know this one is only sold in a handful of stores where you need identification to buy it.” Still, he took it down and handed it to you. “Not that I’m discouraging you from trying it, of course. But you may need help strapping yourself in.”

He was past hiding how aroused he was becoming, gradually getting sloppier at hiding his reactions. He had spoken with an inappropriate intonation. While that always gave you an addicting feeling of dominance, you were reminded of just how attracted you were to him just by watching him move and interact normally, hips swaying, perfect brow arching into a coy expression. Part of you was aching to melt into him and let him treat you however he wanted. You came to terms with that longing, but before succumbing to it, you wanted to have some more fun with him. You could tell some kind of sexual encounter was approaching, like how one can heed the arrival of a speeding train by the sound of its horn.

You cared less if Mettaton could see your bare body as you stepped into the scant underwear. The metal snaps of the attached straps jingled against one another, and you hooked the bra around your back. There was still a lot of fastening to do, and you didn’t know what went where.

“Mind helping me out?”

“Of course.” Once again, you were on the podium with him. As he worked on the straps, you busied yourself sliding into the stockings and the garter. The satin of his gloves glided across your skin, cool to the touch. Soon goosebumps appeared, spreading  like scattered pinpricks. He paused, fixated with them for an instant, then resumed with the snaps, at last reaching the final one.

The robot stepped back to admire his handiwork. He was overcome with wonder looking at you, then your reflected image, and back at you. By this time he had done away with keeping his hands to himself, as they curled around your shoulders and his chassis pressed into you from behind. A beat of silence.

“If only you could see yourself the way I see you.”

Was it a compliment? You were blushing, tracing the trim of the garter around your thigh.

Mettaton, now humming with the sound of his internal fans, looked at you face-to-face. He touched your hair softly. You noticed his other arm awkwardly positioned over his heart, and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew why.

“Darling,” he half-laughed, “I know I’m always the one to dismiss it playfully, but what’s been going on between us can’t be ignored any longer.” Oh, thank god he realized it. “And I feel a bit dirty for, er thinking this--”

You had to find out, so you yanked his arm away from his heart. He gave a yelp of surprise, and your blush raged on. It was visibly starting to ooze pink goo. So much for the inaccuracies of fanfiction.

“Oh my, I’m sorry.” Mettaton was at a loss for words, a seldom sight. “If you feel uncomfortable, you’re welcome to--”

“No, it’s alright,” you assured. So it was happening. You were acknowledging your feelings like adults for once. “I… feel the same way.”

Your pulse raced faster and faster the longer your eyes traveled over him. His lips were partially parted, eye lidded, robotic breath quickening. You understood now: he wasn’t making a move, lest you push him away in disgust or fear.

It was time to give in. You let your arm encircle his waist and reached up with your other hand, beckoning him to your level. He leaned over, drawing you nearer at the same time, and you felt the softness of his lips on yours, warm and heavenly. You made a small noise, hardly audible, you couldn’t help it. Your nerves tingled, and the feeling was augmented around your lips. He was good at kissing, his mouth moved with precision and care.

Parting for a bit gave Mettaton the opportunity to sigh dreamily, uttering something along the lines of “been waiting ages for this,” before meeting your lips again with more vigor, to which you enthusiastically complied. This time his tongue, as realistic as any human’s, slipped over and around yours. Excitement powered through you. You sucked with want on his deliciously thick bottom lip, and that made him quiver, making pleased sounds. 

By now there was a short trail of goo running past the metal of his belt and beginning to drip down his leg. He noticed as well, and looked at you lustfully.

“You’re good at this,” he keened. “Um… how much further are you willing to go?”

It would be outrageous to ignore your immense need for satisfaction, for carnal knowledge of his entire achingly beautiful figure. Imagining the sounds he would make was nearly too much for you to just  _ imagine _ , you craved his decadent voice turned into a lush barrage of moans.

“As far as you want,” you approved. Curiosity overwhelming, your fingers began to massage the squishy surface of his heart, and he let out his first moan. It sent a thrill of heat down to your nether region. It was clear that the underwear you donned right now would soon be his favorite plaything..

His erogenous zone was sensitive, and moving your fingers differently elicited different responses. He especially loved it when you took your fingers away and rubbed the slime between your fingertips. It felt warm and you could see tiny flecks of glitter in the strands.

“It tastes good,” Mettaton offered.

“Does it?” You sank to your knees and his internal fans kicked up a notch.

Not wasting time, you pressed the flat of your tongue to his heart, intent on learning his taste. You heard him cry out softly, since he’d expected you to tease first. You picked up the tang of strawberries and fruity candy. This robot was too much.

The more you licked, sucked, and kissed, the faster his heart oozed, and you loved it. Although, after about a minute, he pushed your head away gently and lifted you to your feet again. What was he looking at? Oh, typical. Mettaton was poised in front of the mirror, admiring how alluring he looked breathing heavily with the contents of his heart smeared around his belt and leggings. There was plenty smeared around your mouth, too.

“Look at me, look what you’ve reduced me to.” He held you against him, hand tracing the side of your body. “I’m going to do the same to you, darling.”

All of a sudden he brought you close, kissed you roughly, and snarled into your ear, “ _ Fuck, you made my pussy so wet.” _

Well, that made two of you.


	3. *careless whisper plays in the distance*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I WANTED TO MAKE IT JUST RIGHT TO ~PLEASE~ ALL YOU ROBOT LOVERS AHAHA END ME

Mettaton scooped you up in his arms, and your legs tangled around his torso. He maneuvered off the podium and out of the room as best as he could while devouring your mouth. Soon enough you were back in the main room, and he pitched you forward. You landed on his bed, bouncing slightly, and he crawled toward you until he had you pinned underneath him.

He drank in the sight of you, your face red and body decorated with the bondage-like lingerie. Just like that, you felt something warm and thick seep heavily onto your stomach. When you looked down, you saw it was a glob of heart slime.

Mettaton took a moment and said, “Mmm, forgive me, g-gorgeous.” There was a clip in his voice now. “You look ravishing, I.. I could eat you up…”

More kissing, and this time his gloved hands wandered up and under your bra. He squeezed your breasts, and the feeling of the material of his gloves on your nipples had you moaning.

“It’s so cute how they get hard like this,” he gushed, pressing and twisting. Wanting to see more of you, he undid the bra as quickly as he could and flung it away, admiring your chest, watching your reactions as he teased you further.

When he enveloped a nipple in his mouth, you couldn’t take it. You began to touch yourself through your underwear, and it wasn’t long before Mettaton took notice.

“Aching to be touched, I see?” He breathed, tongue darting over his lips. “You’ll have to be patient. In the meantime, why don’t I acquaint you with  _ my _ parts?”

Now came one of the things you’d fantasized about many times. You weren’t picky about which kind of genitals he might have, though by his earlier words you knew he had a vagina. You briefly wondered if he could interchange genital types, him being a robot and all, but soon your attention was honed on him as he slowly slid his leggings down. He was overwhelmingly wet already, you could see a thick rope of fluid connecting him to the inside of his pants. He hadn’t even worn anything underneath.

He fidgeted with his gloves, removing them so they wouldn’t end up like his leggings. Kneeling back you so you saw all of him, he spread himself apart and slipped his fingers between the folds of his vulva.

He moved at a steady pace, making sure you were watching. As he touched himself, he looked you in the eye, and you swore you could see that there were tiny pink hearts in his pupils. His head fell back as he mewled softly with pleasure, fingertips now circling his clit.

“Enjoying the view?” he said as smugly as he could through his arousal. You nodded and felt that aching need again while taking the opportunity to let your hands roam up and down the robot’s thick thighs. This made him remember his pants were still partially on, so he took a minute to remove them and leave them with his gloves and your bra. Surprisingly, it was easy for him to take off his boots as well.

When he was finished, he remarked, “Oh, I completely forgot.” Then he took you in his arms again, turned to face the foot of the bed, and you were met with another mirror. It was mounted on the wall across from you and reflected most of the bed. You thought about it, and now you knew why it was there.

“It always spices things up when I watch myself masturbate, so I usually have a mirror on that wall for that.” He was being really open about this stuff. Apparently his unquenchable desire to be seen had sexual connotations. He was definitely an exhibitionist, but how much of an exhibitionist?

“That’s... kinky,” you managed. Now he was intent on taking off your panties. Since they were complicated due to the straps, he undid them as fast as possible, almost ripping at them, but he was careful to leave the stockings and garter in place. There was an influx of tingling in your stomach. Now he was going to see all of  _ you _ .

A new nervousness made you freeze up. You were propped up on your elbows, legs spread, and what lay in between them completely exposed. Feeling your entrance twitch with urgency made you cover up your face, as he had clearly seen that.

He pulled your hands aside, bending over to give you a kiss of reassurance. “Don’t, darling. Every inch of you is exquisite.” He whispered tenderly. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“T-thank you…” you weren’t sure if he’d heard your bashful words, but now he was taking his time figuring out your sensitive spots. As he did this, he sat you up between his legs, and you saw yourself in the mirror once more, only now you were a whimpering and horny mess. It was hard to look away, watching his fingers trace your wet slit, then dip inside experimentally. Once they were coated in wetness, he would copiously rub your clit, at the same time taking it upon himself to sink his teeth into your neck.

The whole situation was so lewd, and his fingers so talented that you felt your climax approaching, undulating inside you like hot, curling whips. You were close, so close, but as if he had some way of detecting it, Mettaton primly withdrew his hand, and you groaned terribly, giving him a frustrated look.

When you turned around, he made a face like he’d been caught in a naughty act, and a naughty act it was. Nevertheless, he continued to suck on the fingers that had been stimulating you until he had cleaned them off. He purred with satisfaction.

“It’s so musky,” he mused, “so  _ human. _ ”

“I.. was gonna come,” you nearly whined. You were in his lap, your chest flat against his chassis so you could feel his fans hard at work keeping him stabilized. “That wasn’t fair.”

“What did I say about patience?” There was his usual sass. For a second your brow furrowed, but you gave a yelp when he delivered you a light smack on the ass. You weren’t all that opposed to his asserting dominance, you guessed.

“I’ve decided I want to taste more of you,” he declared, cocking his brow. “Directly. And you’re going to watch.”

Fuck, he wanted to eat you out, he was going to eat you out. You tried not to drive yourself mad with the prospect of the softest, plumpest lips you’ve ever felt pulsing against your heated sex, tongue snaking up every forbidden crevice. But how were you going to watch all of that?

“Here, lie down like this,” he directed. Now you reclined along the width of the bed, trying to position yourself but failing, your limbs weak. Mettaton’s eyes raked over your body once more, looking predatory. Next, he grabbed your hips and hauled you up, ensuring your knees were bent over his shoulders. You felt even more exposed. His face was overwhelmingly close.

“Now, babydoll,” he cooed, “what do you want me to do?”

He nipped and licked at your inner thighs as he awaited your response. Ugh, so he was pulling  _ this _ trick. You had no choice, you were so heated, you couldn’t wait.

“I...fuck, I…”

You jerked and cried out when the tip of his tongue poked quickly at your clit. You could hardly call that stimulation, but a wave of wetness flowed anew, you wondered if any was dripping.

“I’ll need you to hurry up, darling, because you look delicious.”

“ _ Ahh, eat my pussy!” _ Those words felt disgusting spoken out loud. “F-fuck me with your tongue, please, for god’s sake, I need it, I--”

No further begging was required beyond that, as he dove in and first worked at your labia with those delicious lips. He kissed and kissed, and then, as you had done to his heart, he flattened his tongue and dragged it from bottom to top, finishing off with a peck at your clit. You couldn’t even moan properly, your head was thrown all the way back while throaty noises escaped you.

You felt his hand on your head, a bit forceful, twisting it so you faced the mirror. It was shocking how you looked in this position, all modesty stripped away. Mettaton’s fingers clawed into your hips, he tucked his hair back, revealing the hidden part of his face, so he could get a better angle. He was eating you out vigorously, you loved it, you  _ loved  _ it.

“Doesn’t it thrill you?” He took his mouth away, smacking his lips. “Seeing how depraved and g-gross you r-really are?” There was more of that glitching, oh, he wasn’t just talking about you. If he didn’t come when you came, you would use his fetish against him.

“Hope you’re ready,” he said. With that, he resumed lapping generously at your tight entrance, then his tongue slipped wetly inside.

Warmth wouldn’t stop blossoming within you. It radiated in sync with your heartbeat. You could hear the lewd, sticky noises his mouth made as he thrusted his tongue in and out, pleasuring you further when he moaned against you and sent addicting vibrations thrumming up your nerves.

The thrusting became faster, then your orgasm began to build once more. “I  _ can’t, _ ” you whimpered, “Mett, I-I’m gonna…”

“Come for me, pet,” he growled, withdrawing his tongue. “I want to feel that nice w-wetness squirting all over my f-f- _ face _ .” The glitching got worse, and oh, he certainly didn’t feel anything akin to shame in terms of what he wanted.

It was when he groped your right breast with one hand and sucked hungrily on your clit that your orgasm tore through you, and the robot struggled to keep your hips in place as they bucked. He helped along your climax, and it was painfully good the way he kept stimulating your sensitive spots until he was sure that, after a few seconds, you had come down completely.

You gasped for air, lying limp on his bed after he moved your legs from his shoulders. Some blood had gone to your head in that position, and you needed a moment to stop seeing splotches.

As you recovered, Mettaton cleaned off the mess that had gotten onto his face and then lay next to you. He allowed your breath to even out, though, before you spoke.

“Mett…” There were no words. “That felt so good...I--” you paused, realizing something.

“Did you come, too?”

“Well, no,” he admitted, looking amused and bashful at the same time. “If you don’t feel up to any more, I can just take care of it myself.”

You thought about it. You’d been resting long enough that you decided you felt ready for another round. Maybe you would come again or not, but you didn’t want to pass up the chance to touch him and watch his reactions since you hadn’t gotten a chance to do that yet. You felt grateful for your sex-granted ability of successive orgasms.

You sat on your legs, observing Mettaton, your gaze drawn downward. If his heart had tasted that sweet, you wondered how he tasted  _ there.  _ His folds, colored a light purple in contrast to his white skin, looked swollen with need. They were covered in heart goo, too.

“It’s rude to stare,” he chirped.

You remembered how dirtily he had spoken to you, and elected to abandon your inhibition as well. The more you looked, the more you wanted to make him putty in your hands. And his  _ legs… _

“If you sit on my face I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

He said nothing for a second, stunned, his lips pursed. Then he opened his mouth, about to speak, and instead scooted towards you, cupping your chin in his hand.

“You’re bold, darling,” he said. “I love it.” He punctuated his words with a few kisses. After that, you gripped his thighs in your hands, squeezing as you examined him down there for a second time. You loved how his skin went from white to a dusty lavender to violet the closer to his center you got. You felt him up with one hand, and he moaned shakily. He was slippery and soft, and the feeling of it on your fingers got you going again.

“Mm, darling,” Mettaton said in a low voice. “I can’t take this anymore, I need you…”

“Don’t worry, big boy, I’ll make you feel really good.” You were confident now, so absorbed in him, so fascinated with him. He seemed to like the pet name, too. “Sit down so I  can make it happen, alright?”

You started to lie back, but he snatched you up. “No, no, like this so I can see myself.” Now you were placed so that Mettaton would have a full mirror view of himself grinding down on your face. You wished you’d be able to see it, but you figured hearing and tasting him would be enough.

He was on his knees, straddling you, hovering above your mouth. He was so warm, even from inches away. You actually felt your mouth water seeing his pussy trembling, and feeling the presence of his thighs on either side of your head. God, you wanted to eat him raw.

“You know I could crush you right now if I wanted to.”

He would be remiss if he didn’t point that out, and it only turned you on. Yes, he was hundreds of pounds heavier than you, and just one of his thighs was wider than your waist, and he had impressive strength. He could crush you to pieces in the span of a few seconds.

With this in mind, you pressed his hips down, and ran your tongue slowly along his slick, sweet sex. His moans when he’d been pleasuring you were nothing compared to the moans he made when being pleasured. They were absolutely pornographic, each one making your crotch throb. Also, his taste was similar to that of his heart, only a tad more acidic. You didn’t concern yourself with whether that was bad or not, as you were now enjoying the gyration of his hips, his thighs sandwiching you, supple and luxurious.

“A-aa-h!”

And how bad would the glitching get once you drove him over the edge? You wanted to find out.

While you teased at his clit, you remembered another part of him you’d been eyeing pretty much since day one. You thought back to yesterday in his dressing room when he has made that stupid, pompous comment about his own ass, and how you couldn’t argue with it despite wanting to.

Feeling daring, you reached around Mettaton and clutched his round ass with both hands, squeezing hard. He made a high-pitched sound of surprise. Which diffused into a brazen groan.

“I knew y-you wouldn’t be ab-ble to resist that,” he flaunted. “You like how it feels to touch it?  _ F-fuck,  _ I bet you’ve pleasured y-yourself to me s-so many  _ times,  _ d-darling.” There was pressure on the back of your head as he pressed you deeper into himself. As for what he had said, well, there was another true statement.

By now your face was covered in the robot’s fluids, not only from his cunt, but also from his oozing heart. He couldn’t control any of it, and probably enjoyed seeing everything splattered on your face like some kind of magenta creampie. You realized you were aching down there again, and removed a hand from Mettaton’s ass to rub at your own clit. You moved your lips and tongue faster, and his hips ground harder.

“ _ Fuu-uck!”  _ His voice became more fragmented and unintelligible, sounding progressively more computer-like in its beeps and whistles. His muscles (you guessed) spasmed from time to time. You hoped he wouldn’t blow a fuse or otherwise break down. Soon that was pushed to the back of your mind, since you were thinking of something to say that would throw him over the edge. You tried to hold back on masturbating so you would come at the same time.

You sloppily kissed his vulva, then held him away for a second. He whined, but you found yourself in need of breath, and thought it would do him good to stop glitching at least for a couple beats. Your thumb toyed around his clit, not touching it. You had to make sure he was at attention.

“Please,  _ p-please,  _ put your heavenly mouth back,” he urged.

“Oh, I will,” you reassured. You slipped a finger inside him in the meantime, hardly moving, preferring to idly feel his clenching, spongy inner walls. You could tell he was approaching his limit.

“Before I do, Mett, can you tell me how disgusting you are? I mean, you said you love looking in the mirror while you get yourself off. I think you need to own up to that.”

Had you done it right? You’d never been one to dirty talk, but in this case, you had no filter.

He looked down at you with the most orgasmic and frustrated expression. He looked back up and threaded his fingers through his hair, exhaling forcefully.

“ _ Fuck yes, darling,  _ I’m u-utterly vile and conceited, but I can’t get enough, I-I’m such a  _ slut!  _ Forgive me, won’t you?”

His voice alone felt almost physical, as if it were a hand coaxing you to climax in the best way. Slime dripped and dripped from his heart, it dripped from his pussy, and he even seemed to be drooling with whatever robot saliva he had. As much as you enjoyed torturing him, it was time to let him have his release.

“U-Ugh, you are a slut, Mett,” you murmured, thumb slowly kneading his clit. “I wonder how much more you can take before you come all over me.”

He was now unintelligible, his noises reduced to electronic beeping and random clips of his normal voice. As much as he tried to form words, he couldn’t, especially now that your tongue had delved completely inside of him. It was difficult, but you attempted to touch yourself while simultaneously fucking him with your tongue and abusing his clit with your finger.

Everything was enough to cause him to tense up all over, back arching, legs engulfing your head, sex near melting in your mouth. You bucked up into your own hand when you hit your second orgasm, There was a neverending stream of splatters and moans and squelching and beeping, it was so loud, and you hoped the walls weren’t that thin. On second thought, they probably were, and you had this robot’s fetish to thank.

He ground into your mouth until his climax subsided and his fans died down. Your face felt completely drowned in his fluids now, more so than before. You wiped some from your eyes. He laughed apologetically.

“That’s a lot of cum,” you noted.

“Well, yes, I tend to get very messy when I’m in the throes of pleasure,” Mettaton said. He cleaned some of the substance off of your face, tasting some for himself. God, he was too much. “It’s satisfying seeing your face drenched in it, though.”

“Jesus Christ,” was all you could manage. Then you looked around the bed. It had taken a toll as well, with the comforter and pillows stained horribly. “How are you gonna clean all this?”

“Oh, darling, do you honestly think this is the first time this has happened?” he lifted one knee over, dismounting so he sat next to you. You sat up in the driest spot you could find. “All I do is send everything out to be dry-cleaned and have new sheets set up in the meantime.”

“And how many times have you done that?”

“Oh my, I’ve lost count by now.”

You snorted slightly, wiping the rest of the goop from your face. Gradually, what had just happened started to sink in fully, settling like a ton of bricks. You looked down at yourself, naked but for some stockings, then you looked at the mirror across the way. The ravenous sexual tension that had riddled you two for these months had just been quenched, but now what?

You gulped, trying to think. You didn’t want to impose yourself on him. Maybe this was all he wanted, maybe now he’d find some other poor victim to seduce and leave with the same fate you were awaiting. You didn’t feel as if your worry was obvious, but apparently it was, judging by the look Mettaton was giving you.

“Are you okay?” He delicately touched your arm. Your thoughts jumbled up.

“Oh, uh… man, I…”

“You think that now I’m just going to toss you aside since I’ve had my way with you, right?”

You didn’t answer him. He gave a short sigh.

“That’s not my intention, but I do come across that way, don’t I?” There was a touch of sadness in his voice, and you felt a sort of relief. He stared at the ceiling, contemplating.

“Darling, you’re an amazing person,” he said. He turned towards you, hand grasping yours. “You’re so much more than something to lust over. It just so happened that lust became a particularly strong desire in such a short amount of time. But I would never just  _ use _ you in such a cruel way.”

“You mean that?” you said hesitantly.

“Cross my slimy, oozing heart.”

“Wow.” That made you snort, and your concerns were for the most part tempered.

“So,” Mettaton continued, “how about I help you pack up all the pretty things you tried on after we take a nice bath?”

“You have a bath?”

“A private one, near the resort’s pool area.” He winked cheerily, then rolled off the bed to collect his leggings and boots. “And before you ask, of course Alphys made me waterproof for that. How can one resist the bliss of a hot bath?”

A bath did sound good. You just hoped you wouldn’t fall asleep from exhaustion. Soon, Mettaton was dressed again, and had you wrapped in nothing but a towel. He had brought towels for himself as well, slinging one around his neck.

As you began to head for the door, you were taken by surprise and lifted up, now inches away from the robot’s face. He was holding you princess style, and looked damn proud of himself.  

“Are you seriously going to carry me like this the whole way there?”

“Well, why not?” he grinned. “It serves you right for being such a little tart.” He pecked you on the lips. You rolled your eyes, accepting the situation. Even though you felt ridiculous, one thing was for sure: nothing could beat the rush of knowing you were his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ba-dum tss
> 
> get it
> 
> because this entire fic is a joke
> 
> hope you liked my joke


End file.
